Perfection
by Lune Nightingale
Summary: Seishiro wasn't a normal child in his past. But there were certain elements that attributed to the way he was, and reasons why his ideas of 'perfection' were slightly skewed. Mild incest, angst, mild shounen ai. SeiFuu One Vol. 17 spoiler.


**T****itle: **Perfection

**Series: **Tsubasa Resevoir Chronicle

**Rating: **PG-13

**Warnings: **Incest from all directions. Also, spoilers if you've not read volume 17.

**Notes: **This is about Seishiro and Fuuma from before the series.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of these characters. And that just makes me sad and want to cry, cause CLAMP is abusive. -Silence- Well… so am I, but that's not the point. Please don't sue… I don't even have a full time job yet. XD

**Dedication:** This is to Caly, Merry Christmas

--+--

Everyday was just like the day before. Living and training became a steady cadence, like a heartbeat that was perfectly regular in rhythm. It was simply, eat, sleep and train. And he excelled at these things. Because of this, everyone expected something from him, but there was one thing they all desired the most. Perfection. It was such a simple word that continuously pricked at his mind like senbon needles. That word had been his drive for the last fifteen years.

This morning was like any other as he slipped from his room buttoning the dark material of his cassock. In all his years he'd never truly had a growth spurt, but his mother promised that he would. Not that this was of any consequence to him. If he wasn't tall, he wouldn't be too upset. It was a trivial matter. Size didn't decide the strength of the hunter.

With silent steps, he went down the hall of his home. He only came to a stop before one door that he often visited of his own accord every morning. Pressing his hand to the door, he wasn't given the chance to knock when movement flickered in his peripheral vision.

Turning his head slowly, he saw his mother's small form leaning against the wall just about the corner. Long ebony hair hung like a silken curtain to the side due to the miniscule tilt she held her head. Smiling pleasantly at her, he turned from the door instantly. It was expected of him to always be aware of her. She wished for all of his focus, always. "Good morning, okaa-san. Did you sleep well?"

The woman only smiled at the velvet softness of her son's voice as she lifted a hand. Palm up, she crooked her index finger in a motion that requested that he move closer. Without hesitation he moved. It was like being on autopilot and he was victim to her every whim. "Good morning, anata." Her voice was like honey as he stopped just close enough so she could slide her arms about his neck. She fell happily into his chest, her dark eyes glittering as they locked on his. "I slept as well as could be expected, Seishiro."

He knew what that tone meant, and he realized what she wasn't saying. _I slept as well as could be expected without you there, Seishiro._ Half closing his eyes, he continued to smile emptily at the beautiful woman. "I'm glad you slept well." It was his only way of telling her that his absence would only continue.

"Truly, Seishiro, when will you learn that night is for sleep?" A pout tugged at her full lips as she tiptoed to get closer to his face.

"I have much work to do, and little time okaa-san." Chuckling, he placed his hands on her hips in the expected manner and forced back any thoughts that whispered not to give in. Certain… allowances had to be made. "Will we be having breakfast together?"

Smiling wistfully, she moved her hands to curl her fingers into the soft locks at the back of his neck and head. Pulling herself desperately close, she only smiled darkly as a movement from the door caught her eye. Meeting that unsteady gaze peering out into the hall, she turned her head to kiss just below Seishiro's ear. Never once moving her gaze from that face, she sensually whispered into Seishiro's ear this time making sure her lips made contact with each word. "Let's have breakfast, just the two of us."

The young face contorted as wide eyes peered at the two. This was normal; this was something that was heartbreaking on so many levels to an eleven year old. Something like pain clouded them as the one in the woman's arms shifted only to be caught again. Her small hands grasped his face and soon she was pulling him down to touch their lips together. All the while, her eyes remained open just a sliver to watch the boy slowly lower his head and look at the floor. Seishiro pulled back after a moment and lifted a brow. "I always make breakfast for otouto."

"But I'm important, Seishiro. Don't you want me to be happy?" The woman pouted once more, but her son only smiled closing his eyes.

"I'll meet you in the kitchen. Wait for me there?"

Setsuka's eyes narrowed before she finally turned and moved away in a sweeping motion. Seishiro remained still a moment as his hand rose to wipe just slightly at his lips in an unconscious gesture. Everything always went the same way. "Come here, otouto."

The younger child had tried to hide behind the door, but he still gasped as Seishiro seemed to see him without even turning to look. For a moment he hesitated. Finally stepping out of his room, he closed the door behind him. Walking up to his brother, wide eyes stared up at the figure in an almost worshipful manner. "O-ohayo, nii-san."

"Good morning, Fuuma." It wasn't often he used the younger's name, but this was his way of showing his concern on the other's behalf. Turning, he lowered onto his knee only to smile so very gently at the younger. "Did you have sweet dreams?"

Fuuma couldn't help but smile in return as he lunged forward to wrap his arms about the older's neck. This was his most important person, his idol, and his big brother. Hugging tightly, his voice seemed to lighten a bit as he nodded his head. "Yes I did! Did you nii-san?"

"Well enough." Strong but slender arms curled about the younger as he tipped his head to lean it against his brother's. It was enough; it was all he could do. Every morning and evening he worried about those moments his mother caught him in front of his brother. She reveled in those moments as she purposely put their 'closeness' on display. And where Fuuma never said a word, Seishiro could tell that the other was always upset. "Shall we go eat?"

"Okaa-san doesn't want me in there."

"I won't let you go without eating."

"Nii-san… you'll make her mad at you…"

Seishiro laughed softly as he pulled away. Leaning down closer, he touched their foreheads together. "Let me deal with that, ne? I'm a big boy."

Fuuma instantly huffed at the older as he crossed his arms over his chest. A soft red tinged his cheeks as he looked away, though occasionally those perceptive eyes slid back to look at his brother. "I'm a big boy too!"

"Are you?" Seishiro couldn't help the smirk as his younger brother flailed a bit then forced himself to straighten up.

"Yes!"

"I see. Then I suppose that would mean you can't come see me in my room at night anymore if you're a big boy."

Dark eyes widened in fear and upset as they turned back to Seishiro. Scrambling for something to say, he was cut off by the hand softly sliding into his hair. Ruffling the spiky mess of hair, Seishiro tilted his head and kissed his brother's temple. "Come on then, let's go eat."

Lowering his head, Fuuma gave a quick nod. Watching Seishiro rise and turn, he took a moment before he finally moved into his wake. It seemed… that he always looked at Seishiro's back in moments like these. The elder always made sure he couldn't see his face when something was wrong. It was just something he was coming to expect. His brother was for all his understanding, perfect.

--+--

"He's amazing."

"Wow… did you see how fast he could move?"

"Are you kidding? I couldn't even see him move!"

Fuuma tried so hard to squeeze through the group of people standing at the sidelines of the training grounds. Today, Seishiro was sparring with some of the older disciples of the Order. It was no surprise that he would make it so far in these trials, but Fuuma always disliked how unfair they were. Without fail, they pushed Seishiro the hardest and the longest out of any of those his age. Even those older and more experienced didn't get the rigorous 'torture' that his brother did.

Torture. That was exactly what it was. They pushed and pushed until some nights he could tell that Seishiro could hardly move. There were so many bruises and unaccounted for wounds that Seishiro never uttered a sound over. When Fuuma tried really hard, he could recall his brother when he was younger. He remembered one time when he cried… he remembered the way they 'broke' the other of it. It was then that Seishiro, red-eyed and stiff, asked one thing of him. It was something he'd never forget.

"_Otouto,_ _never let them see you cry."_

"_Nii-san…"_

"_Don't ever stop crying. But don't ever let them see you cry."_

"_Hai…"_

The younger brother held to that promise. If he cried, the only one that ever saw was Seishiro. And the elder never lectured him, never corrected him, and never told him to stop. Instead he would hold him and carefully sweep the tears away. That was the Seishiro that no one else saw.

Squirming past a few people, he nearly tripped and fell forward. It was a last second move that recaptured his balance. But it didn't go unnoticed by the people around him. They instantly murmured to one another over his head in a condescending tone.

"Is that the younger?"

"Yes. A shame."

"Yes, no magical talent."

"Well, everyone knew they couldn't expect much from Setsuka."

"She should have stopped while she was ahead."

It took so much effort to drown them out. They always talked around him in this way. Seishiro told him to ignore them. Seishiro always seemed to ignore them. The elder brother was almost completely unfazed by people and what they had to say. Furrowing his brow, he made himself tune them out. He had to. More than anything else, he wanted to be strong like Seishiro. Lifting his eyes, he watched in rapt amazement as his brother moved. Seishiro was like poetry in motion. It was an art form that took years to be perfected.

Whenever the other slowed, Fuuma would look at his face. He would study those empty smiles and blank expressions. It was in those moments he wondered. Did he really feel nothing at all? Was this what it meant to be perfect?

"How long has he been going?"

"It's been almost two hours."

That long? Fuuma's brow furrowed even more as he watched the two on the field. Even Seishiro would be hard pressed to keep fighting that long. And every time he would defeat one opponent, they always threw him a new one. Watching with wide eyes, he was careful to keep the worry out of them as he watched each movement. He could see how tired his brother was getting. There were slight missteps as he tried to dodge and strike in near perfect sync. That was when Seishiro made one wrong move.

All Fuuma could see was the elder being thrown across the field only to roll and skid to a halt. Seishiro rose slowly to his feet, arm wrapped about his middle, a smile on his face. Fear flickered in his eyes as the other caught them, but Seishiro only looked away. Dropping his head, Fuuma felt something in his chest sink. He was so far from perfection, that even Seishiro wouldn't look at him.

Seishiro would fight on. Fuuma would worry. That was how it always was.

--+--

"You have to put more effort into it than that." Laughter filled the air as the small wiry boy was knocked backward hard into a tree. Clenching his teeth, he didn't make a sound.

"You think just because _he's_ your brother, we have to be nice to you?"

"What a brat. I bet he's spoiled!" One of the taller boys laughed at those words as he stepped closer to Fuuma, who slowly sank to the ground. In seconds, Fuuma was back on his feet and pushed forcefully against the tree. "You're not even half of what he is."

A dark bruise was slowly forming on his cheek and a little bit of blood was sliding down his chin from a split lip. This wasn't the first time, but they'd never left visible marks before. The older students in his area of the Order always found it amusing to pick on him. He was a bit slower, but he was young. Wasn't that was his brother said? Dark eyes narrowed as he met the other's eyes. He never backed down. And just like his brother, he'd never make a sound.

Yet, at that point, he was too tired to fight back. The laughter of the group was beginning to ring in his ears causing his head to spin. Then it all went quiet except for the soft chuckling of the boy still holding on to his shirt. What happened next was almost too fast and unexpected for even him to believe. Strong slender fingers were grasping those of his tormentor… and that person was screaming in pain.

Turning his head, all he could see was that perfectly sculpted profile as the faintest hint of a smile was on his lips. "Didn't they teach you that there is no fighting amongst the students? It would do you well to keep that in mind."

There was a sharp snapping sound and Fuuma's eyes widened. The boy cried out in extreme pain and crumpled to the ground as Seishiro released him almost as though he'd only patted the other instead of shattering his wrist. "My arm! My arm!"

Fear was painted all over their faces as they stared at Seishiro in horror. "You might want someone to look at that." It was a simple gesture. It could've been taken for concern if he hadn't been the cause of the breaking. Amazing was the only word he could put to the speed at which they all retreated from them. As those cries of fear faded away, the only thing that remained was silence.

For a long time he didn't move. In fact, he preferred not to even see what look Seishiro would give him. What he hadn't expected was for those rough fingertips to slide over his cheek before carefully coming to rest on the back of Fuuma's neck. "Are you all right? Anything broken?"

It was then that he began to cry. As he pulled away from Seishiro in order to fall to his knees, pent up anger and frustration left him in a flood. Slamming his fists into the ground, all of the inaction rose to the surface. There were no words, only emotion. Emotion that couldn't be contained any longer. But instead of disgust, he felt strong arms collect him from the ground and into the warmth of Seishiro's lap. Rocking the other in a very soft and subtle motion, Seishiro tucked his face into the soft mess of dark hair. Fuuma only managed to cry more in further frustration. "Stop it!" Fists hit weakly against Seishiro's chest coming to nothing.

Hitting again, he yelled louder at the older trying not to let the begging tone enter his voice. "Don't! Stop it!"

Seishiro only sighed into the soft hair and lifted his head to look into that tear stained face. Dark eyes that seemed so empty all the time were heavy with… concern? No… sadness. Fuuma stilled instantly and he panted as he tried to settle down. "Why are you pushing me away?"

Turning his head away instantly, Fuuma could hear the taunts and careless words. He could hear his okaa-san's words so clearly.

"_How cute._ _You have a crush on him."_

"_Ah! I!"_

"_You're such a burden on him. You know that don't you?"_

"_But… okaa-san…"_

"_Really… what good are you to him?"_

"Nii-san… I…"

"If you want me to leave you alone… just ask me to."

Silence filled the air again as they looked at each other almost as though afraid to speak. Finally, Fuuma breathed in and moved his hands to rest on Seishiro's shoulders carefully. Both of his eyebrows lowered as he timidly spoke. "Nii-san, I don't want you to leave… I just… you're perfect… and…"

Seishiro froze, his body went stiff and the moment of feeling in his eyes was gone. It was like a light switch had been turned off, and before Fuuma could react, his brother was back on his feet. "You are you. I am me. Let's go home."

In all those years, Seishiro had never spoken to him in such a way. Small hands rose to reach for his brother, but once again his back was turned and Seishiro was moving away. More tears threatened to fall, but he couldn't let them. Not now. Not when he'd just managed to turn away the one most important thing in his life. "Nii-san…" The word was no more than a whisper that was so easily lost on the breeze.

--+--

The rest of the day had passed so slowly and Seishiro hadn't acknowledged Fuuma the entire time. Everything seemed so quiet in the house, and for the brief moment that Setsuka had been in the room, she'd seemed like a victorious lioness as she leaned on her eldest son. Seishiro didn't push her away; he didn't even speak to her unless she asked a question he was bound to answer. Only when Fuuma finally seemed to give up and leave the room did Setsuka almost sing out her observations plainly. "Well, he was quite a mess. What on earth happened to him?"

"Nothing."

"You truly dote on him." Setsuka pursed her lips as she eyed her elder beloved son. Dragging her nails pensively along his neck, she fell into his lap smiling like a cat that caught the canary.

"I would think that is a matter of opinion." The smile was soft and bright, but he'd closed his eyes in the process. In ways, he was still rigid from before. There was too much on his mind, and she never really helped with that problem. Not at all…

"Seishiro… you know, I'm jealous of him." That pout was back on those full lips and he was hard pressed not to push her off his lap and onto the floor. She moved closer as he didn't respond and nipped at his chin. "You really don't want me to be jealous of him… do you?"

"No." That wasn't what he wanted. Jealousy was never a good thing from their mother. It meant that she would exact her revenge… and that was what he'd been avoiding all those years.

"I really shouldn't have had another child."

"What ifs are pointless okaa-san." Chuckling emptily, he raised a brow and met her gaze.

"He's of no use to me. But you… you bring him so much pain all on your own." She'd hit something that time. Dark eyes widened marginally and he had to look away to hide the remnants of that reaction. "Yes… all on your own. Every time he gets hurt… every time those cute eyes fill with tears… whose fault is it, Seishiro?"

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep that fear from flickering in his eyes. Yes… it was his fault. People would jump all over the boy and make his life miserable all because of who he was related to. Then there was Setsuka. Her 'love' for Seishiro was anything but motherly. Even now her hands were cupping his cheeks and she was taking his lips in her own. He marveled at how he barely responded to her advance, but she seemed so pleased as she quivered in delight. "You want him safe… don't you, Seishiro?"

He couldn't answer that, but his mother already knew the answer. Closing his eyes, his face slowly became blank. "Then make me happy Seishiro. If I'm happy, then he can be as well. Yes?"

For a moment his jaw tensed as she rose out of his lap and gave him a come hither glance. Pushing himself slowly to his feet, he moved to her just as he was expected to. "Such a good boy." Catching his hand, she pulled him along toward her room. "So… perfect."

---+---

It was well past midnight when he finally stumbled into his room. Deft fingers worked over rumpled clothing to touch spots that ached on smooth skin. The sparring that day had already stretched him dangerously thin… but this was always something that drove him so close to the edge. Shrugging the cassock off slowly, he winced and carefully worked at the removal of the shirt underneath. This was pain. Pain that he'd learned long ago was a part of life.

After dropping the shirt to the floor, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and his eyes traced over the dark black and blue mark he found. His mother had laughed at the sight of it. He'd expected that. He'd also expected her encouragement to get even and pay the person back tenfold. Such matters were useless to him. Seishiro could deal with that pain, that bruise…

It was the angry red marks and cuts on fine porcelain skin that shook something at the foundation of his soul. When had this started? It started as far back as when Fuuma was born and their father had tried to leave. Setsuka never took kindly to anyone leaving her. That was why everyone knew she was responsible for his 'disappearance'. But no one questioned her. Her son was a prodigy along with the fact that not many could touch her prowess in battle.

Shaking his head, Seishiro moved from the mirror to sink into his desk chair. Setsuka was asleep, and he was glad she was such a heavy sleeper. Reaching across his desk, his fingers caught hold of a book and pulled it out as his lips parted to speak softly. "Otouto, you shouldn't be up."

He could hear the other jump from his spot peering in through a crack in the door. Innocent eyes stared at his brother's marred back and he wanted so desperately to come closer. Seishiro knew this. He could feel that desire more than anything. "I… I'm sorry."

Breathing softly, he tried to remind himself of why he was doing this. Seishiro wanted this person to be safe. Turning in his chair, he looked at that child and his resolve caved in. "Come here."

Fuuma didn't even hesitate as he closed the door and ran with surprisingly silent strides to Seishiro. Normally he would throw himself into the other, but this time he stopped just before him. Tentative hands rose to brush the marred flesh. It was so easy to read the pain in his eyes. Carefully he stopped those hands then he collected Fuuma into his lap and cradled him there. Turning, he opened his book and had fully intended to start reading. Only, Fuuma had other plans in mind. "Nii-san… I'm… I didn't mean to hurt you."

Seishiro blinked at this, there was no hiding the surprise on his face. Turning his head to look at his brother, he tilted his head in curiosity. "Hurt me?"

Nodding quickly, Fuuma couldn't bring himself to look at the elder. "I could tell that you were hurt… I must have said something… no.. I was really horrible!"

The features of his face softened as he moved to wrap the younger in his arms. "I admit, you hit the wrong chord… Fuuma…" The child looked up at him attentively as he took a deep breath. "You… I don't want you to see what they see."

"But I don't! I…"

Shushing him with a finger, Seishiro smiled. "I'm not perfect."

The dawning of realization flickered in Fuuma's gaze as he suddenly looked sheepish and ashamed. Yes… everyone called Seishiro perfect. "But, nii-san…"

"There is no such thing as perfect."

No, Seishiro wasn't perfect. Fuuma could see that. There were cuts and bruises that proved this. Reaching out timidly, he brushed soft fingertips over the cut on his brother's shoulder, his brow furrowing. Only he was allowed to see this. Only he'd been this close. Seishiro made sure of that. Out of necessity, Seishiro let their mother close. But in the end, only Fuuma had the privilege to see just how imperfect Seishiro really was. "But I love nii-san… that makes him perfect."

The elder gave him a stunned look, and soon his face softened as he smiled sadly. From the day he'd met those eyes in the crib all those years ago, Seishiro knew what it meant to have something to protect. Those determined eyes that were so deep and multi-faceted taught him the meaning of sacrifice and love. Where his mother shunned that child, Seishiro raised him. Seishiro gave him that chance to be something; he gave him that chance to be everything. "Is that so? I believe I can accept that."

Fuuma almost giggled as he slid up to hug his brother about his neck. "You should. Because nii-san is everything to me. You make me stronger and believe in me!"

Curling his arms about that child, he felt his heart stumble over a few beats. Everything. Yes… Fuuma was everything to him. "Because you can surpass even me."

Shaking his head quickly, Fuuma could hear Seishiro laughing softly. "You can. You will. I know you will. Be more, otouto. Be the only perfection to me in your imperfection."

For a long moment, they sat in silence until Fuuma finally nodded his head. "I will, nii-san." Looking up, Seishiro blinked at the determination in those eyes. They promised to overcome anything. Anything at all.

"Good. Now sleep. I'll put you to bed after I finish reading." Reluctantly the child nodded his head slowly curling into the warmth of his older brother. For a while, Seishiro pretended to be reading, but only long enough for his brother to fall asleep. As he felt that soft deep breathing, he turned his eyes back to the younger and watched him.

Graceful hands brushed messy locks from a smooth countenance only to slide along the frame of Fuuma's face. Before he could realize what he was doing, the pad of his thumb was brushing over Fuuma's lower lip. Blinking, he pulled his hand away as though he'd touched fire. This wasn't something he could do. Touching his brother like that… was so wrong. It would make him… just like her.

Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths before reopening them. This was something he couldn't do… he couldn't mar this perfection. Someone like him didn't have the right. None at all.

---+---

_Years Later…_

"Please teach me how to fight, to be able to fight even if my right eye can't see." Determination filled those dark eyes as he clutched that book so very tightly to his chest. Seishiro could feel that desire, that drive to be more. This boy wanted to be something, he wanted to overcome the odds and make something out of nothing.

Seishiro inclined his head as he realized just who it reminded him of. Those eyes that begged for him to make it right were all that he could see. "Your name?"

The boy seemed to relax, but the determination was still there. It was throwing him back into a time that part of him would give anything to go back to. "Syaoran."

Tipping his head forward, he closed his eyes as he smiled ever so softly at the younger. In his mind's eye, it wasn't the scuffed boy from the desert he saw, but messy raven locks and wide eyes of determination. Perfection. "My name is Seishiro."

-Owari-


End file.
